


Christmas in Vegas

by Carmexgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmexgirl/pseuds/Carmexgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is looking forward to spending Christmas alone, eating day old apple pie and lamenting the end of a relationship.  Luckily, there's Sam to cheer him up, and if that means Las Vegas, drinking and strippers well, Dean's surprisingly ok with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kototyph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/gifts).



> To be honest, all of Kotoyph's prompts were very tempting, but Richard Cheese, 'Christmas in Las Vegas' spoke to me the most. Hope you like it!

Dean smiles to himself in his sleep. The cute little blonde stripper angel with great tits is about to suck off the smoking hot dark-haired devil dude, making this dream go from ‘about average’ to ‘top ten of all time,’ when suddenly the whole scene is interrupted by a burst of AC/DC.

He wakes with a start, groping helplessly for his cell and knocking it to the floor. “Shit,’ he cusses, falling out of bed and blindly scrabbling around for the damn phone whilst trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes. Finally he gets it, just making out Sam’s stupid grinning face on the screen before he answers it.

“Dude, what the hell? It’s…” he looks around for a clock, seeing 11.34am blinking back at him in large red digits. Shit, is that really the time? He thinks, thanking whoever that it’s Saturday and he doesn’t have to be at the workshop.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice comes from the tinny speaker. “Dean, were you still in bed?”

“No,” he lies unconvincingly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with his one free hand. “What do you want?”

Sam huffs on the other end of the line, entirely unconvinced. “Riiight. Ok. Well anyway, I was wondering how you were doing today?”

Oh right. That. He can hear it in the tone of Sam’s voice.

Dean’s relationship with Lisa ended just over a month ago. They’d been on the outs for a couple months prior to that, but it was eventually Lisa who had the guts to call time on it. Dean’s fine with it, he really is. He knew at that point neither of their hearts were in it anymore, but he thought that they’d at least carry on being civil until Christmas, get the festivities over and done with for everyone’s sake before going their separate ways in the New Year, all handshakes, smiles and ‘see you arounds. 

But no, she decided to break up with him at the beginning of freaking November, wrecking his plans and forcing him to find a crappy one-bed apartment with the prospect of spending the festive season wallowing in his own self-pity.

And wallowing is exactly what he’s going to do. He’s never really ‘done’ Christmas anyway, so avoiding the whole debacle is completely fine by him. He’s got the beers in, figures he can buy himself a suitably festive apple pie on Christmas Eve that he can heat up on Christmas Day, and maybe rustle up a couple of burgers too if he feels like it. He’ll call Sam, speak to Bobby even though he doesn’t do that Christmas crap either, break open the one good bottle of whisky he has and finally fall asleep in a food/alcohol coma. Done. Merry Freakin’ Christmas.

Sam though, obviously has different ideas.

“Fine Sammy,” Dean replies eventually. “I’m fine.”

“Good, that’s good. I’m glad.”

“Great,” Dean says, “I’m glad you’re glad I’m fine.” He stands up, staring down at his still-there morning wood, willing it to go down whilst lamenting the premature end to what he’s sure would have been a pretty awesome dream. “Look, Sam, it’s not that I don’t like hearing from you or anything, but I saw you yesterday, you know how I am, so what’s with the early morning wake-up call?”

“Dean it’s nearly noon. This is the kind of stuff I was talking to you about yesterday. I’m worried.”

Here we go.

“You work, you get home, you don’t speak to many people, you spend your weekends in bed…you need to get out, man. You need to…I don’t know, take life by the balls or something. Lisa…”

“Whoah, gonna have to stop you there, buddy,” Dean dives in. “I’m fine; I told you I’m fine. I’m just adjusting to being a single guy. You know, after living with someone for a year… it takes time to get used to being on your own. I like staying in. I like not having to be sociable. It’s just me and I’m totally fine with that.”

Except he’s not. Not really. He knew in the end that Lisa wasn’t The One, but he’s starting to think that he’ll never find him or her. And that’s kinda…scary, if he’s being honest with himself. He’s always been pretty self-sufficient, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend his future alone.

Still, it doesn’t mean he has to come out of his cocoon just yet either. He’s still entitled to mope, although that’s totally not what he’s doing.

Sam continues. “Yeah, I know I know. You keep saying that but you forget I know you Dean, and I know what you’re doing. You’re sulking around eating take outs and pie…”

One quick glance to the living room reveals a box with half a pizza in it, half a dozen foil pie containers and a box from Wing Wah’s Cantonese Emporium. Dean scowls down the phone before searching around his bedroom for a clean pair of pants.

“…watching crappy TV and generally being a recluse.”

“Dr Sexy is not crappy TV, Sam,” Dean says as he scrabbles around the floor, but Sam cuts him off.

“I had a talk with Jess, and she’s going to see her folks over the holidays. So, I’ve organised a trip for the two of us, something to get you out there again.”

Dean slaps himself on the forehead. “Sammy, I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need a stupid-ass trip…”

“…yeah, you do. Jess says she came over two days ago and you were eating peanut butter straight out the jar.”

“Lots of people do that.”

“Most people use a spoon. She says it was chopsticks.”

“Hey! My fingers couldn’t reach the bottom and they were the closest thing to hand!” Dean said, cussing his future sister-in-law for ratting him out. Where were those damn pants?

“So there’s no arguing. You’re not finagling your way outta this one. I’m picking you up in two days.”

Success! Hiding under a pile of old socks, he found a pair of clean(ish) jeans. He rests the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he pulls them on. “Can you at least tell me where in the hell we’re going?” 

He doesn’t even need to see Sam to know he’s smiling; he can practically hear it in his voice when he says, “Vegas baby!”

 

Two days and lots of protesting later, Dean’s sitting on his couch next to a freshly packed case. Well, not case exactly. More a slightly ripped holdall that contains one pair of clean pants, couple pairs of boxers and some socks, plus a towel, hair gel and a pack of three condoms. Well, what else is he going to do there? He doesn’t have money to waste gambling; maybe he can pull out the ol’ bag of tricks and hustle some pool but after the last time when he was threatened with a baseball bat and three of the guy’s body-builder friends, he thinks he’ll probably give that one a miss too.

A part of him is kinda looking forward to the trip, in a strange way. Since Sam graduated from Stanford and got a job with his fancy pants law firm, they’ve not been able to hang out as much as they used to. Yeah, Dean moved to be closer to him, got a job at the local mechanics fixing cars and restoring old classics, but it’s not like the old times. They used to go road tripping together every summer after Dean got his licence, stop in crappy motels in whatever one horse town they happened to wind up in, and just generally not give a crap about anything. He loves that Sammy’s settling down, has found a great girl who makes him happy, but a part of him misses the time they used to spend together.

Of course, there’s another part of him mourning the demise of his holiday plans, and is slightly pissed off at being made to go on a trip to ‘find himself’ or whatever the hell they call it. But then, he could never say no to Sam, and Sam—the bastard—knows it.

There’s a knock at the door. He opens it to see Sam’s wide mouth and white teeth grinning at him. “Road trip!” he exclaims, and Dean can see he’s pretty excited. He waves to Jess who mouths at him “Have an awesome time,” before driving away.

“You ready?” Sam says.

“Yep,” Dean replies, picking up his holdall.

Sam cocks an eyebrow. “Is that all you’re taking?”

“We’re going for two days, Sam. What more do I need?”

“Well, more than one pair of pants.”

Dean shakes his head. “With any luck,” he says, “I won’t be needing pants at all.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Seriously? That’s what you want to do?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Thought you said you wanted me to ‘get out there’ again?”

“Well, yeah, but not…” Sam sighs, smiling to himself. “You know what? Never mind. If going to Vegas and screwing around with the girl or guy of your choice stops you from spending Christmas moping about in your crappy apartment eating Funyuns , then fine. Let’s do it.”

With that, Sam grabs Dean’s holdall and heads off to the elevator. Dean takes one last look around his apartment before locking the door and following him, hiding the packet of Funyuns he bought specially for the trip in his jacket pocket.

 

The journey takes five hours, and Dean’s secretly pleased that Sam agreed to let him drive because it gives him a chance to give his baby a good run. Since he got the job at the workshop, he’s not been able to take the Impala out as much as he would want.

They quickly fall back into the easy camaraderie they had when they used to go on road trips together, making fun of each other, Sam pointing out interesting landmarks and telling Dean facts about them while Dean calls him a geek. Eventually, Dean asks something that’s been bugging him ever since Sam suggested the trip.

“So how come you’re not spending the holidays with Jess. Everything ok?” 

“Yeah, we’re good,” Sam says. “It’s just…well she knows I worry about you, and ever since you broke up with Lisa you’ve been…I don’t know, just not yourself.”

“Sam I told you…”

“Yeah you’re fine, you’re fine I know. But seriously Dean, does it not bother you? You were with Lisa longer than anyone you’ve ever been with, and I guess I thought you were finally ready to settle down. So then she broke up with you and it’s like you’ve been on autopilot this whole time. I just worry, is all.”

Dean sighs. He hates having these kinds of conversations, hates them. But when he glances over to Sam, he looks genuinely concerned and he could never say no to those puppy-dog eyes.

“Look, ok, I admit it; breaking up with Lisa was harder than I thought. But not in the way you think. I mean, yeah at the start I thought she was it for me, but then as we went on I realised that she probably wasn’t, and worse than that, I didn’t really know what it was. So I carried on, hoping that things would sort themselves out but they didn’t, and she knew it. I think that’s why she ended it, because she knew I’d never have the guts to, not really. I’d just go on until we resented each other, and that wouldn’t have been good. So yeah, I’m glad it’s over, but I’m also pissed off because I really thought I’d got the whole relationship thing sorted in my head. I thought I knew what I was looking for, but then it turns out that no, no I didn’t. And still don’t, and probably never will. And that really pisses me off.”

“So, you’re pissed because you don’t know what you want?”

Dean nods. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Sam laughs. “It’s never simple with you, is it?”

“Nope.” He smiles at the absurdity of it. 

“You will, one day,” Sam assures him. “Trust me.”

Dean’s had enough of talking feelings, so they stay silent for a while as he continues to drive. Eventually, his thoughts turn to what they’re going to do once they get to Vegas.

“So what’s the plan, anyway?” He asks.

Sam sits up straighter in his seat. “So the plan is, we get to Vegas, we have an awesome time doing whatever you want, celebrate Christmas in varying states of drunkenness, and then head home.”

“Does ‘whatever I want’ involve strippers?”

Sam nods. “If you want. Jess has given me a free pass as long as there’s no touching.”

“I knew I liked that girl. You keep hold of her, Sammy.”

Sam smiles, “I intend to.”

 

Sam’s booked them a pretty fancy hotel. He’s not broken the bank though, which Dean is glad for, but it’s good all the same. Separate rooms, king sized double beds, 50 inch TV attached to the wall with a whole range of channels Dean didn’t even knew existed. Also, the carpets are thick and soft, cream without a stain in sight. A far cry from their motel days, where the best he could hope for would be minimal stains on the floor and a magic fingers bed. They settle in, and through the wall Dean can hear Sam checking in with Jess and promising her that he’ll have a good time.

Dean checks out the bathroom, and instantly takes full advantage of the shower with those extra jets in the wall that get you right where you need it. He finds if he angles himself just right, he can have a pretty freaking awesome time.

He steps out of the bathroom, red faced and chest flushed , dick hanging thick and spent between his legs. On his bed he sees a freshly pressed suit waiting for him, with a note from Sam that says I knew you’d forget the essentials. Pay me back later.

Bastard.

Although, when he pulls the suit and looks at himself in the mirror, he has to admit he looks pretty darn good.

As he walks down the stairs to the lobby he can hear whistling. “Wooo, pretty sharp!” Sam says, smiling. He’s put on his own suit and is looking pretty good himself. Boy scrubs up well. He’s holding a martini, of all the clichés, and pushes a glass of the same in Dean’s direction. “Starting early?” Dean says, cocking an eyebrow.

“Just getting loosened up, that’s all.” He takes another sip.

Dean necks his, the alcohol burning his throat. “Whoah!” Sam exclaims. “Take it steady. We have a big night ahead of us and I don’t want you peaking too early.”

“Not a chance, Sammy. I know what I’m doing.”  
Vegas is full of Christmas splendour. Practically every hotel has a huge Christmas tree outside it, either real or made entirely of lights. It’s a feast of glittering red, gold and green with huge baubles, rocking horses, reindeer, even a crowd of plastic penguins in red scarves adorn one street corner. It’s wonderfully kitsch, gloriously tacky in typical Vegas fashion. Both Dean and Sam decide that tonight is not one for gambling—they’ve got two days in this place and figure it’s best not to blow it all in one night.

Instead they hit the bars, having a drink in each one until they find one that they’re comfortable in. It’s off the main drag, fairly small and has a more ‘homey’ atmosphere than some of the others. Dean likes luxury, sure, but he doesn’t really do the glitz so this bar suits him down to the ground. He and Sam order a couple of beers, shoot some pool, order a couple more beers and then find themselves a secluded booth so they can talk. They’re not drunk, but their tongues are a little looser so conversations about ‘feelings’ can happen without Dean wanting the ground to swallow him whole.

“So, you said you were pissed because you don’t know what you want,” Sam begins.

Dean nods. “Yeah.”

“I had no idea, man. How long have you been feeling that way”

Dean thinks, momentarily distracted by a guy with dark hair and a cute ass leaning over the bar. “Dean!” Sam says, and Dean snaps his head back to Sam. “What?”

“I said, how long have you felt that way?”

Dean shrugs his shoulders. “Couple of months, I dunno. Seem to have spent my whole life not knowing what I want, you know?” It’s a half-truth. He does know what he wants, but he doesn’t know how to get it. His time with Lisa made him realise that he does want to settle down, not necessarily have a family but at least find someone he can spend the rest of his life with. “I just wish it was easier. Like you hear those stories of people falling in love instantly and like, that’s it. Game over. They’re done and they’re happy and they don’t have to go through all this ‘dating’ bullshit.”

“But isn’t that part of the fun? Getting to know people? Getting it wrong so when the right person comes along you know that it’s right?”

Dean laughs. “Well if that’s true I’m the freaking expert, right? Man, the weirdos I’ve dated…”

Sam smiles. “Well, it’s not just you. I guess everyone has dating horror stories.”

“Ruby!” Dean coughs.

“Shut up, Dean. She wasn’t as bad as Bela. Or Victor.”

“Bela had her charms.”

“Yeah, right up until she ransacked your apartment. Then she had all of your charms too.”

Dean burst out laughing. “Shut up, Sammy. You wanna get some shots then move on?”

“We could…but then there’s this strip joint not far from here…”

Dean picks up an imaginary petticoat and exclaims in an over exaggerated southern drawl, “Sammy! Why I never…”

Sam smiles. “Come on. I got the name of a place from Gabriel. He says this place has girls and guys. So, y’know, right up your alley.”

Creepy short-ass co-worker of Sam’s. Dean knew he had to be good for something . “Well, being the sex addict that he is, he would know. Let’s go.”

 

The club looks the same as any others from the outside, shimmering in silver and gold with glittering lights. The sign outside says ‘Heaven’ in neon blue, with little flashing angel wings on each side of the ‘H’. There’s a burly guy on the door, and Dean thanks his brother quietly for not letting him get so drunk that they wouldn’t be let in to this place. Sam steps right up to the doorman, hands him some cash, and they’re instantly let inside.

And whoah, is this place something.

Along one side is a bar, all neon lights and mirrors with bar staff dressed in devil outfits. Round tables are dotted here and there with red velvet chairs in the shape of golden snail shells surrounding them. To the back is a stage with a runway coming off it and more chairs either side, so close that you can touch the stage. The music is pumping, just generic feel-good dance shit designed to get people in the mood before the show starts. 

As Dean’s eyes scan the back of the club, he can see a number of private booths. One door opens, and a guy comes out looking flushed and very pleased with himself, while the rest of his group, holler and slap him on the back. Dean smiles. He likes this place.

He follows Sam to the bar where he orders cocktails. Cocktails! Dean pulls a face of utter disgust when Sam hands him something blue with some kind of fruit in it. “What the hell is this?”

“Something called a woo-woo. Just drink it. Show’s on in a half hour.”

Dean takes a sip. It’s far too sweet, feels like it’s coating his insides as it slips down his throat but he sticks with it and follows Sam over to the stage area. Sam sits in the front row, right near the stage.

“Dude,” Dean hisses, “What are you doing? These are for VIPs, right?”

Sam grins, pulling out two VIP passes from his jacket. “It’s amazing what two guys in smart suits, plus a couple hundred dollars will get you. Had a word with the guy on the door—he made sure we were ok.”

“You sonofa…” He gives Sam a hug. “Thanks.”

“Don’t get all mushy. We got strippers to watch and from what I hear, the show’s pretty special.”

They finish their drinks, play ‘spot the drunk guys’ who they can possibly hustle later, and settle in. Eventually, the lights go down, the generic dance music cuts off, and the show starts.

Obviously, it’s Christmas themed. First of all, a troupe of cute blondes plus one redhead stand on stage, writhing about in their skimpy Santa outfits to ‘Santa Baby’ and winking at people in the audience. Dean catches the eye of one of them, the redhead, who comes closer, drops to her knees in front of him and writhes from side to side, shaking her hair. She unclips her bra, revealing an excellent pair of tits that jiggle from side to side as she moves. Dean likes this place, he really likes this place.

Next come the men. Smart suits and shirts quickly give way to chiselled torsos and g-strings that leave nothing to the imagination. Dean’s never seen male strippers up this close before, and man, he just wants to reach out and pull their g-strings away, see what’s underneath. They dance about on stage and Dean takes it all in, four of the hottest, most cut men he’s ever seen. He picks out one, tall, blonde, takes in his rock hard pecks, chiselled abs that run down to his stomach , takes in his obliques right down to his crotch where he can see the bulge of his no-doubt impressive cock. Dean shifts in his seat, feeling himself get nicely aroused as he watches the strippers turn round and rip their g strings off in unison. They turn back, dancing as Dean watches their cocks move almost in unison.

Beside him, Sam is cheering. Completely comfortable in his heterosexuality, Sam can appreciate a good looking guy and he seems to be getting pretty excited. “This is awesome, right?” he says, slapping Dean on the back as he watches the strippers shuffle offstage, not with some disappointment. “Seen anyone you’d want a private dance with?”

“What? Sammy I couldn’t…”

“My treat, Dean. Seriously, think of it a Christmas present. Anyone you see who you want a private dance from, let me know.”

 

Before Dean gets a chance to answer, the lights go down once more. ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ starts, and two strippers take to the stage, one man, one woman. Dean can’t quite see the guy as he’s concentrating on the other half of the stage, but the woman is pretty hot, dressed in a little devil uniform that consists of a peephole bra, devil wings, tail and short skirt. She pulls the tail off and holds it across her ass, swinging it from side to side and Dean’s getting lost in the movement until he feels a nudge from his side.

“Dean!” Sam hisses.

“What?”

“The guy stripper…over there.”

Dean takes his eyes off the woman momentarily to try and get a view of the male stripper. The girl writhes in front of him again, blocking his view in the best way possible.

“Can’t see. What?”

“He’s…I think…is that Castiel Novak?”

“What are you…” The girl moves out of the way and finally, Dean can get a decent view.

Holy fuck.  
Castiel Novak was in the same year as Dean at high school. They were friends, sort of. They hung around in different circles, but Castiel was instructed to help Dean with some of his studies so they came to know each other pretty well. Cas being ridiculously intelligent went off to college not long after, while Dean took an apprenticeship that eventually helped him set up his own workshop, fixing and restoring cars. They left on friendly terms, stayed in touch for a while before eventually going their separate ways. Dean wasn’t entirely in touch with his sexuality then—took him a few years later to work out that he liked guys as well as girls, so Castiel was…never really in the picture. Except now when he looks back at all the people he went to school with, Castiel was definitely the hottest in a nerdy sort of way.

Fast forward to now, and that is most definitely Castiel Novak writhing around on stage in tight white shorts, fluffy white wings on his back, halo attached to his head and white boots laced up to his knees. Except, he’s no longer the slightly shy, nerdy kid Dean once knew. Here is a man who oozes confidence, is finally comfortable in his own body and jeez, what a body it is. He’s slim, yes, but toned. As he turns and shakes his body, the muscles on his back undulate and Dean isn’t ashamed admit he’s salivating. When he turns around, Dean recognises the large, almost too-blue eyes as they scan the audience. Castiel looks straight at him, tilting his head before his eyes widen in recognition. Dean smiles back, and then Cas is sauntering over to him, flicking his hips out this way and that as he walks.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of a record scratching and both dancers pause. Instantly, ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’ is replaced by ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ and both dancers immediately start bumping and grinding, taking the dance up from moderately titillating to smoking hot in a matter of seconds. Castiel positions himself right in front of Dean, a small smile plays upon his lips and Dean knows, just knows that his eyes will be stuck on Castiel for the rest of the dance. Castiel knows it too, so much so that he purposefully bends over, pulling his shorts of with one quick tug to reveal a tight black G-string that leaves nothing to the imagination underneath.

Dean can feel himself reacting, feels himself getting hard at the sight of his once shy school friend shaking his ass at him. He shifts in his seat, trying to get into a comfortable position. A quick look to the side and he catches Sam’s eye briefly to see him grinning like a Cheshire cat. The music continues, and Castiel turns to face the front, drops down low and starts pumping his hips, thrusting his crotch in Dean’s direction in perfect time to the music. Dean’s rock hard in his tight suit pants now, feeling his cock strain against the material as he continues to watch Castiel thrust in his direction, bending over backwards to get just the right angle to have Dean biting his lip and moaning to himself.

Castiel stands, swaps places with the devil girl so all Dean can see is his ass, the thinnest slip of G-string material disappearing tantalisingly between his cheeks. Dean spares another glance to Sam, and finds he is transfixed by the girl as she moves back and forth, peeling off her peep-hole bra to let her ample breasts tumble free. Normally, Dean would be right there with Sam, but all he can do his stretch his neck to see Castiel bend over in front of a crowd of business men on the other side who whoop and holler at him. It’s then he notices that the G-string is gone, lying discarded on the stage. Castiel then turns, meeting the girl in the middle but before Dean can see his cock, they come close, do a bit of a dance together and finish wrapped tightly around each other as the song comes to an end. Castiel turns to see him, and they exchange a look before the lights go off to the sound of people cheering and clapping. When the lights come back on again, Dean is disappointed to see that Castiel has disappeared.

“Can you believe that?” Sam all but shouts, still clapping. “Castiel Novak! Stripping! Oh my god!”

Dean scans the room to see if Castiel has appeared somewhere. He doesn’t see him, and surmises that he must have gone to a dressing room at the back of the club. “Sam,” he says, but Sam is still gushing about what he’s just seen.

“I can’t…I can’t believe it!”

“Sam…”

“I mean, wasn’t he like, one of the most intelligent people in school? Whaddya think happened?”

It’s a good point. Castiel was ridiculously clever, came from a well-off family and didn’t get into any trouble so why the hell is he stripping in a club in Vegas?

“Sam…” Dean continues.

“I just can’t…”

“SAM!”

That seems to shake Sam out of it. “Sorry. What? You want more drinks?”

Dean shakes his head. “No. I think…I think I’m gonna take you up on your offer of a private dance.”

Sam smiles. “Okay. So…”

“So…get me a private dance with Castiel Novak.”

 

This feels weird. Dean’s been ushered into a private room with its own couch, table with another woo-woo (Sam’s idea of a joke) sitting on it and small stage with a pole in the middle. Dean’s mouth feels dry for some reason, so he takes a sip of the sweet, blue drink and swallows. He feels nervous, although he doesn’t quite know why. He’s not sure if he wants to talk to Castiel or rip his pants off so he sits there, quietly sipping, waiting.

Eventually, a door opens and Castiel steps in, wearing the same angel outfit he had done on stage. He looks even better than before, if that’s even possible. He doesn’t say anything to Dean, just walks over to a small stereo and puts on some generic jazz-type music, the sort that’s easy to strip to, and begins moving his hips from side to side. Small movements at first, becoming more pronounced the closer he gets to Dean. He bypasses the stage and the pole completely to come right up to Dean, straddling him, crotch hovering just above Dean’s. So near, and yet so far.

Castiel puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders, and as the music gets louder he leans forward to whisper in Deans’ ear, “Fancy seeing you here, Dean Winchester.”

“Ahh, so you remember me?” Dean replies, and Castiel turns, rubbing his ass lightly on Dean’s crotch.

“I never forget a face,” He says before lifting Dean out of the chair. Castiel bends down, Dean standing in between his spread knees, his face a hair’s breadth away from Dean’s crotch and Dean’s trying hard, so hard not to just thrust his very obvious arousal into Castiel’s face. “God,” he moans, and he hears Castiel chuckle. “So I guess a lot’s changed since we last spoke,” Castiel says as he comes up, grabs Dean’s ass and thrusts their crotches together. 

Dean huffs in surprise. The friction is glorious, and Dean wants more but at the same time he’s acutely aware of the small, black security camera in the far corner, its red light blinking at him in the darkness of the room. “I guess so,” Dean replies. “Wanna talk about it?”

Castiel looks at him right in the eye. “We could, or, I could give what you’ve paid for and we can talk when I finish.”

He pushes his hips into Dean and grinds down hard, making Dean gasp. “Fuck,” Dean breathes, “Yes.”

Castiel steps away, sways seductively from side to side, licking his lips before taking one of Dean’s thumbs and putting it in his mouth. He sucks, hard, and Dean imagines those full lips wrapped around his cock, enveloped in Castiel’s wet heat as he uses just the right amount of suction to drive him wild. Castiel pulls Dean’s thumb out of his mouth with an obscene pop, before he places it on his nipple. Dean quickly gets with the programme, rubs in a circular motion and adds just that little bit of pressure, just enough to make Castiel moan. “Yes,” he moans, grinding into Dean’s crotch again. He steps away, pulling off the little white shorts to reveal the same black g-string as before but this time, he’s obviously hard, cock straining against the flimsy material.

He pushes Dean into the chair again, and starts undoing Dean’s pants, pulling them down to reveal his white boxer briefs and rock hard erection underneath. Dean’s not sure this is strictly stripper protocol, but hell, who is he to complain? Castiel straddles him, grinding their cocks together as he throws his head back, smiling in pure pleasure. “Never would have thought…” Castiel gasps, seemingly lost in the moment. “Never would have dreamed…”

“Fuck. Harder.” Dean moans, the security camera forgotten as he feels his orgasm starting to build already. He’s going to come in his pants like a teenager and he doesn’t care, doesn’t even matter that Castiel isn’t even fully naked.

“Dean,” Castiel moans, and Dean can tell by his flushed face, his slightly swollen lips that he is just as far gone as Dean. He grabs Castiel’s ass, pulls him closer and they move together, harder, faster both completely lost in the moment until he can feel Castiel shaking on top of him as he comes in his G-string, gasping. Seeing him writhe on top of him, completely lost is what does it for Dean. With a strangled moan, he comes in his briefs, staining the white cotton as he shakes himself through his release.

Castiel slumps against him, and they stay like that for a few minutes just breathing together. Dean feels strangely warm, strangely comfortable until he opens his eyes and sees the red blinking light across the room. Castiel seems to regain his senses and stands up, looking flushed but also a little horrified too. Dean doesn’t like the strange pang of sadness that Castiel’s look gives him.

“Oh god,” Castiel says, voice shaking slightly. “Please don’t think… please don’t think that happens with everyone. It’s never happened before. I don’t…I don’t do that with everyone.”

“Really?” Dean says with a slightly hopeful tone. “You don’t?”

Castiel picks up his discarded shorts. “No, I’ve never…it’s normally just a job. I don’t get off on clients. I just…”

Dean pulls him in for a hug. “It’s ok, it’s ok. I liked it. Well, I more than liked it. Jeez Cas you made me come in my pants like a teenager.”

Castiel looks at him and smiles with relief, breathing out a long breath. “Wow. Ok. So…” he starts. “You wanted to catch up? I guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here, and I certainly have some questions about you.”

“Well, yeah I’m pretty curious about why you’re here. We can talk tomorrow if you want. If you’re free.”

Castiel checks Dean’s watch. “I finish in half an hour. If you want we could go back to my place and talk. And then…who knows?”

Oh hell yes. “Half an hour. I’ll meet you out front. I gotta get back to the hotel and change my pants first,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. Castiel laughs, pats him on the shoulder and gets up, pausing to say, “It’s a date. See you later, Dean,” before leaving.

Dean pulls his pants up, adjusts himself and grimaces at the cold, sticky wetness. He exits the booth to see Sam waiting for him, grinning from ear to ear. “Good time?” he asks, “You look like you’ve enjoyed yourself.”

Dean nods. “Oh yeah. Listen, I’m gonna meet Castiel in a half hour, and we’re gonna catch up. That ok with you? 

“Catch up,” Sam repeats sarcastically. “Yeah, riiight. Look, whatever you’re doing…it’s awesome you found an old friend so I think you should go for it.”

“You sure? You don’t think I’m ditching you or anything.”

“Course not. Catch up with your friend. I could do with getting back to the hotel anyway.”

“Yeah, me too. I um, I gotta get back and change my pants first. And then, tomorrow we’ll need to buy some more.”

Sam screws his face up in disgust. “I told you to pack more. Gross, Dean.”

 

Dean returns to the club 40 minutes later. He walks up to a dingy alleyway that he’s been told contains a back door all the performers use. He’s impressed to see another security guard on there, who eyes him suspiciously as he walks closer. He’s about to say something when the door opens to reveal Castiel, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and looking, Dean thinks, hotter than ever. His hair is a little wet, thankfully devoid of glitter and, Dean assumes, he’s washed off all the baby oil that coated his torso. Castiel thanks the security guard, then looks up to see Dean and smiles widely. Dean thinks he hears him say, “It’s ok, Zak, he’s with me,” to the security guard before walking over to him.

“Hi,” he says, a little shyly.

“Hi,” Dean replies. 

“You came back, then.”

“Sure did.” Dean smiles. Castiel seems reassured.

“My car’s just a couple of blocks away. I thought we could go back to my apartment?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want, man.”

The walk to the car doesn’t last long, the car journey itself even shorter before they’re pulling up at a modern apartment building. Castiel parks up and they enter through a back door, walk up a few flights of stairs and step into what is a pretty small but homely apartment.

Castel makes a drink, and they sit on his large, comfy couch surrounded by books.

“So…” Castiel begins, “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here, why I’m doing what I do?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, a little. I mean, it was a surprise to see you at the club. A pretty pleasant surprise, don’t get me wrong, but I gotta say I’m curious.”

Castiel studies him for a while, blue eyes boring into his, regarding him thoughtfully. Dean can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable under his gaze, only because a. he’s pretty hot but also b. it’s like Castiel can see into his very soul and isn’t necessary sure if he likes what he sees.

“Would you have a problem, then, if I said stripping was an active career choice? That I can see myself doing it for many years?” Castiel narrows his eyes, scrutinizing him.

Dean shakes his head. “No, no man, not at all. I’m not some kind of asshole that’ll go pay top dollar for a stripper but wouldn’t want to date them…” Shit. Date them? He’s not thinking about that is he? Dean inwardly curses himself. He’s had one awesome experience with the guy and now he’s pulling out the ‘d’ word? “…what I mean is…I um…I don’t care what you do, Cas.” The nickname just falls from his lips like it hasn’t been years since they last saw each other. “As long as you’re earning a living and you’re happy.”

He sees Castiel’s slightly stony expression soften, a small smile playing upon his lips. “Good. I’ve known a lot of people who have a problem with this, who think I’ve fallen on hard times and taking my clothes off is the only way I can make a living. It’s not, it just happens to be the one that gets me the most money. That’s why most of the other dancers do it too.”

“Oh, I believe you. I’ve seen strippers take in thousands of dollars before. So how did you end up doing it?” Dean’s genuinely curious.

Castiel shrugs. “It pays for my studies,” he says, gesturing to the books that are practically on every surface of the apartment. “I’m studying for a doctorate in Anthropology at the University of Nevada, and I need the money. 

“Doctorate? Whoah, that’s awesome! Always knew you were smart. Anthropolgy huh?” Dean can’t even pretend to know what the hell anthropology is, but it sounds smart so Castiel must be doing well.

Castiel nods. “I’ve always found the human race fascinating, and this way I get to do what I love and hopefully make a career out of it.”

“So the stripping helps, right?”

“Yes. I work the library during the week, but someone put me on to the stripping because the club was recruiting. I took it as a joke at first but then, I found out I’m actually really good at it, and they wanted me on their books. So, every weekend and most of the holidays I spend at the club. It supplements my income, I enjoy it and I get to meet hot men. Well specifically, one particular hot male.” He widens his eyes and smiles.

Dean coughs. He can feel a stirring in his crotch area and again, when did he become such a horny teenager?

“I’ve changed a lot, Dean, since high school.”

“I’ll say.” Dean openly looks him up and down.

Castiel laughs. “Yep. I’m still a nerd, I’m still proud of that but I guess college gave me more confidence, helped me be myself rather than a person moulded into someone other people thought I should be. I’m in a pretty happy place right now.”

Dean nods. “I can see. It looks good on you.”

Castiel smiles at that. “Thanks. I have to say, Dean. I never thought I’d see you again. I never thought that we’d…you know…I always thought you were into women.”

“Yeah, well.” He feels a little awkward and he shouldn’t. Hell, he’s done the whole ‘I-like-guys-as-well-as-girls’ a hundred times, yet for some reason, speaking to an old friend who probably still sees him as this womanising clown he used to have to try and tutor back at high school has him a little nervous. “It was a couple of years after high school before I realised, you know, that guys were pretty awesome too, and I thought that maybe…maybe I didn’t need to stick to one gender, you know?” He touches the back of his head in a comforting gesture. “So I didn’t, and I found that it could be pretty awesome.” He laughs, a little too loudly, and quietens down when Castiel smiles.

“Well, I’m glad. If only I’d known then, though,” Castiel says, moving closer. “If only.”

Dean’s breath hitches. “Yeah, me too.”

Castiel comes closer still, moves in so their faces are mere inches apart. He looks Dean right in the eyes, and Dean is mesmerised. “So, is there anyone I should know about? Anyone special?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nope. You?”

“No,” Castiel says, and moves in for a kiss. It starts of chaste, tentative almost, until Dean reaches to pull Castiel closer and all bets are off. Castiel’s tongue explores every inch of Dean’s mouth before they have to come up for air, and Castiel is suddenly lying over him, grinding their crotches together as Dean grabs that fabulous ass with both hands and squeezes, pushing them closer together as Castiel grinds down harder.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes. “We’re wearing far too many clothes.”

Castiel grunts in agreement, dives in for another kiss before sitting back and pulling off his t-shirt to reveal his toned torso. Dean runs his hands all across it, feeling every inch of skin and muscle before remembering how sensitive Castiel’s nipples are and goes in for the kill, thumbs circling both at the same time. Castiel moans, long and loud as Dean continues, and he smiles to see the other man so lost in the simplest of caresses.

“Dean,” Castiel moans. “Too much…too many layers.” Dean moans in agreement, and they both part briefly to divest themselves of their clothes. There’ll be time, Dean hopes, for long, teasing strips later but for now, this is about getting naked and horizontal in the quickest time possible.

They’re both hard, and now Dean can see Castiel’s cock in all its glory as it juts out from his body. It’s a good size; not small by any means, but not intimidatingly huge either. Castiel is also shaved, the product of having to wear G-strings in an evening, and Dean can’t resist dropping to his knees, leaning forward, and tasting.

He sucks hard, tongue swirling around the head and teasing the slit, and he can feel Castiel trying not to buck into his mouth. He grabs Castiel’s ass again, pulling the cheeks apart and kneading them as he moves up and down his hard shaft, sucking and licking. He can hear Castiel above him, moaning and whimpering as he sucks harder. Dean fucking loves giving head; he loves the feel of his lips stretching around a nice, hard cock, the salty tang of precome bursting on his tongue and he knows he’s good at it, knows just what to do to make men come in the quickest time possible. He moves up and down the shaft quickly, sucking harder and moaning to himself as more precome spills from Castiel’s tip. “Dean, Dean, Dean,” Castiel moans, before Dean can feel hands tugging his hair, pulling him off. He looks up and Castiel’s lips are swollen with arousal, a red flush coating his neck and torso. “Too good,” he smiles, pulling Dean up to kiss him passionately again. He pulls away, mouths, “Back in a sec,” before running off to his bedroom and returning with a bottle of lube and a condom. He kisses Dean again. “Want you inside me.”

Jesus fuck, if this is a dream Dean’s going to be so pissed. He watches as Castiel turns around, bends over the couch and hands him the bottle of lube. Dean can’t resist pulling Castiel’s cheeks apart, exposing his pink pucker. He leans in, blows cold air on it first to make Castiel flinch before licking a stripe against the opening. His tongue teases the rim, making Castiel moan into the fabric of the couch as he licks his way inside, feeling Castiel open up beneath him. He uncaps the bottle of lube, squeezes some onto his fingers to warm, before pulling out with this tongue and replacing it with his index finger. Inside Castiel is tight and warm, but it doesn’t take much for him to open up, take more fingers until eventually Dean is three fingers deep, pumping in and out while Castiel’s moans get louder and louder. He lifts his head up from the couch and keens, “Please, Dean. Please. Want you. Want your cock.”

Dean pulls his fingers out, tears the condom packet open and rolls it quickly onto his achingly hard cock. He slicks himself up with more lube before pulling Castiel up. “Where do you want me?” He asks, not sure where Cas wants to do this. Castiel looks wrecked, but he just smiles, pushes Dean down onto the couch and straddles him.

Before Dean can say anything, can say how good Castiel looks all flushed and wanting him, Castiel lines himself up with Dean’s cock and sinks down with one fluid motion. They moan in unison, Castiel getting used to the feeling of fullness and Dean with the sensation of being inside Castiel, inside his once nerdy, shy tutor. The same nerdy, shy tutor that is now riding his cock, head thrown back and mouth open, moaning as he grinds down and pulls up. Castiel leans back, puts his hands on Dean’s thighs as he speeds up and Dean starts to get with the programme, starts to push and pull back. He grips Castiel’s hips to help him move up and down, thrusting harder and harder in time with Castiel’s movements. “Fuck, Cas,” he says, thrusting more.

“Say that again,” Castiel moans.

“Say what? Cas?”

“Yes! Oh god, yes,” Castiel shouts, their bodies moving together.

“Cas,” Dean says. “Cas. Oh fuck, Cas.”

“Yes! Yes, yes Dean. Fuck, yes!” Dean moves slightly, angles his hips a little differently and thrusts again. Castiel all but screams, and Dean knows he’s got it, hit that magic spot that sends Castiel’s world spinning.

“That’s it Cas. Come on. You gonna come for me? Come for me, Cas. Come on.”

“S..so close. So…fuck,” Castiel’s words peter out, lost to incoherency as he nearly reaches his peak. Dean takes one hand off Castiel’s hips, moves it up his torso to circle and pinch at a nipple. That does it, then. Castiel comes with a strangled cry of “Dean!” cock pulsing white hot over Dean’s stomach. He hunches forwards, and Dean wastes no time in thrusting three, four times more before he shouts out, empties himself inside Castiel as he rides through his orgasm.

Eventually, they come down from their high. They separate, Dean pulls off the condom and ties it up while Castiel grabs a washcloth from the kitchen to clean them both. They then lie there, cuddled up together on the couch, just breathing until their heart rates return to normal.

“Well,” Dean begins. Castiel looks up at him with the most adoring expression ever and Dean knows, just knows, that it will be the end of him one day. “I’m not one for, you know, the after sex team talk or anything but that was…amazing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Castiel says.

“Screw you, I was fucking awesome. I mean, you were ok…”

“Okay?” Castiel says with mock indignation. “Okay?”

Dean cocks an eyebrow. “Well…Couldn’t really tell whether it was mostly you or me, you know. Figure we might…have to go a few rounds before I can really tell.”

“Oh, I see.” Castiel grin. “Guess we’d better start now. My bedroom is over there, more lube’s in the drawer to the side along with the condoms. I’m going to pour us a drink so you’d better get yourself ready in the meantime.”

“Oh, someone’s gotten bossy since high school then. Think you’re really something, Mr I’m-Nearly-A-Doctor?”

Castiel nods. “Pretty much, yeah.” He stands up, pulling Dean with him. “Now get,” he says, tapping Dean on the ass and laughing.

Holy shit, I’m going to be sore in the morning, Dean thinks. But it will be totally worth it.

 

Epilogue – One Year Later

“C’mon Dean, you’re going to be late. Again,” Sam says, looking exasperated.

“I just gotta…” Dean unties his tie and ties it again, this time making a better job of it. He steps out of the bathroom of the motel to see Sam staring at him. “What?”

“Baby blue tie? Seriously.”

Dean blushes. “Shut up. I thought it’d match Cas’ eyes, ok?”

“Awww,” Sam says, mocking. “Ain’t that the cutest?”

“I said shut up, Sammy. Besides, we’d better get going.”

Dean hustles Sam out of the door and into the Impala, before taking the shirt drive to the university. He’s done this drive so many times over the past year, he knows the streets like the back of his hand and makes up the time spent fiddling with his tie easily. They park up, run into the university waving their invitations at the ushers and take their seats just as the ceremony is about to begin. It’s pretty boring, if Dean’s being honest. Some old guy in a weird hat droning on about achievements and other stuff. Dean looks at the people sitting down, eyes scanning the row of more dignitaries, old guys and snot-nosed student s before he settles on the person he’s looking. They look up, blue eyes meeting his and shining as Castiel smiles. Dean smiles too, gives a little wave that he tries to conceal from Sam, who sees it anyway and snickers and how ‘cute’ they both are. Dean gives him a playful thump on the arm.

Cute. He has never, ever in his entire life been cute. Well, not until recently anyway. After The Greatest Hook Up of his Entire Life™, he and Castiel went their separate ways with the promise of keeping in touch and visiting each other whenever they could. ‘Whenever they could’ turned into Dean driving to Vegas virtually every weekend, with Castiel coming to stay with him every holiday in between his nights at the club. The sex was awesome, obviously, but beyond that Dean found himself falling in love with this strange, nerdy kid from school that grew into a stupidly intelligent and incredibly hot part-time librarian/part time stripper, the one who’s currently standing up in a gown that swamps his frame to receive a piece of paper that’s been years in the making. Dean whoops and cheers, claps his hands at Castiel’s achievement, and if Dean’s eyes get a little teary when he’s finally announced as ‘Dr Novak’ well, only Sam is there to see it. And laugh.

Afterwards, he finds Castiel packing his certificate away in a back room and draws him into a long, lingering kiss. “Congratulations, Dr Novak,” he says, holding him close.

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Castiel says.

“Well, you’d better. Those Stanford kids are going to be saying it all the time.”

“Maybe I’ll make them settle on calling me Castiel,” he says, fiddling with Dean’s tie. “I could be the ‘cool’ lecturer.”

“Oh, no. You worked hard for this, damn college kids are going to show you some respect,” Dean laughs. Castiel chuckles. “Seriously, Cas. I’m so freaking proud of you. You deserve it.”

He kisses him again, bunching up the material of his gown in his hand as he pulls him even closer. Castiel moans into the kiss, the same delicious sound that got him hooked all those months ago. He breaks the kiss, checks that both doors to the room are closed, and seizes his chance. He pushes Castiel up against the wall, drops to his knees and disappears under his gown. In a flash he has Castiel’s pants and underwear down, and is sucking his cock to full hardness as Castiel leans up against the wall and moans. “Dean…we shouldn’t…what if someone walks in on us?”

Dean pulls off his cock with a wet pop. “Then I’ll make this quick.” Since he’s been with Castiel, he’s refined his awesome blow job skills considerably, to a point where he considers himself an expert at giving head. He resumes his ministrations, swallowing Castiel’s cock down to the root and sucking, hollowing out his cheeks as he moves up and down the length of it. He can feel Castiel tangle his fingers in his hair along with the material of his gown, pulling and pushing ever so slightly. “Dean,” Castiel gasps, “Dean.” 

Dean pulls back, wraps his lips around the head and tongues the slit until he can feel Castiel start to lose control, start to buck. “Gonna…” he whispers, “So good. Gonna come, Dean. Dean. Dean!”

Dean sucks him down to the root once more and that’s it, Castiel’s gone. He can feel him pulsing, swallows around his length as he comes down his throat. He pulls off, licking up the last few drops before tucking Castiel back into this briefs and pulling up his pants. He emerges from the blackness of the Castiel’s cloak to see him leaning up against the wall, panting, face flushed. 

“Happy graduation, Cas,” Dean says, smiling. Castiel pulls him into a kiss, pulling away ever so slightly to whisper, “Thank you.” Behind them, the door opens. Luckily it’s Sam, whose smile tells them he knows exactly what they’ve been doing.

“Guys—buffet in the marquee. They have sliders and those mini-pizza things so you’d better be quick.”

Castiel looks at Dean. “Ooh, you love those,” he says before pulling him out of the room. Sam grabs him as he passes, “Uh Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“You have, uh, come on your chin.” 

Dean wipes his chin. Nothing there. Sam laughs. “I knew it! Couldn’t keep it in your pants for one day, dude.”

“Oh, Sam, that was a little below the belt,” Castiel says. “Besides, you know he always swallows,” he adds after a beat.

“Gross!” Sam screws his face up in disgust. 

Dean laughs. “You got him, babe. Good one.”

Castiel smiles broadly, his eyes shining. He pulls Dean back for a second. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I just wanted…I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for being there this past year. And thanks for coming with me to Stanford. I know it’s a little further away from Sam but…”

Dean leans over to kiss him. “Hey. Me and Sam, we can talk without living in each other’s pockets you know. Besides, I kind of think I love you, you know? So damn straight I’m going to come with you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen. He’s said it to Dean, of course, but Dean’s never said it to him, not in so many words. In gestures and everything else yes, and Dean’s in no doubt that Castiel knows he loves him, but Dean’s never said it until now.

“That’s good. Because, I kind of think I love you too, Dean.” They both smile, and walk to the marquee were Sam had commandeered a whole plateful of mini pizzas, just for them.

And there, right there, Dean realises that this is it. This is what he has been looking for all along. He’s spent so much time desperately searching for it, that it kind of crept up on him unawares. It’s spending time with his brother, laughing and ripping it out of each other on a daily basis; it’s finding out that with his skillset, he can do the job he loves pretty much anywhere he chooses. And finally, it’s looking forward to a future living with a nerdy guy from school with a brain the size of Jupiter and a heart to match. He wasn’t looking for this, never in a million years, but he’s got it all the same and he couldn’t be happier.

He’s also looking forward to spending next Christmas in Vegas, just for old time’s sake. Cas is even going to bring his wings.

End


End file.
